Reflections on Emergencies
by Jen Six
Summary: Ambrosius Flume spends some time remembering the handful of occasions he's had to close shop.
1. Chapter 1

_**Reflections on Emergencies**_

Ambrosius Flume looked forward to opening Honeydukes Sweetshop every day, and had done so for the past sixty-five years, without missing a day, except for emergencies. And come to think of it, every time there had been an emergency, there had been a Potter involved, in some way, shape or form.

The first emergency, the old man mused, was back during the First Wizarding War, when James Potter and his band of Marauders, along with the Longbottoms, the Prewitt brothers, and the Bones, Apparated into a nasty ongoing battle in Hogsmeade. He heard the curses flying, of course he did, but his wife had just given birth to their second child, and Ambrosius was, if anything, a coward.

Ambrosius peaked his head out of the door long enough to determine that now was a good time to close shop and evacuate the family, to avoid the mess that could possibly befall this battle. Besides, people would surely die. He had no way of knowing, as he shepherded his young daughters and wife out of their home above Honeydukes, that just outside his door, Gideon and Fabian Prewitt were losing the fight for their lives, outnumbered five to two, or that Edgar Bones had been stricken with the curse that would eventually claim the lives of his family.

When he found out, Ambrosius and his wife talked it over, and decided that they would no longer stay idle in Hogsmeade, if this war was bringing death to their home.

The second emergency was the night of the Battle of Hogwarts, when old Goatcharmer Aberforth started gathering up 'the old crowd', as he called it. Hogwarts alumni, all of them, and this time, Ambrosius had his Squib children safely in Muggle university. He gathered his cloak and wand, and followed old Aberforth, and it wasn't until they got to the Hog's Head that Ambrosius realized he hadn't revised his will since the end of the First Wizarding War, and yet, he shrugged it off, knowing it was too late to change it now.

When he had returned from Hogwarts, the next day, his wife screamed at him, because he hadn't had the decency to send a message that he was alive. Tired and aching from the fight and the curses, he kissed her dutifully on the cheek, and decided that, today, of all days, that he wouldn't open the shop, for the first time in almost twenty years.

The third emergency hasn't happened, but it's been twenty years, and another set of Potters are at Hogwarts now. Ambrosius gives young James Sirius (He refuses to think of his name as anything shorter) a small discount when he sees him and his friends, and silently, he sends a prayer to whatever god may hear it that the Potters stay safe, in this generation. He is simply getting far too old for emergencies.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: As always, feedback of any sort is welcome**

The first Hogsmeade weekend every year was always something Ambrosius looked forward to, seeing as he made more money off of it than the next two combined, due to a variety of factors. Generally, the new third years couldn't wait to see what all the fuss was about, and they would load up on sweets to last them well into term. The locals had long since learned to avoid Honeydukes during a Hogwarts Hogsmeade weekend, which made Ambrosius and his wife, Dorothea, mildly disappointed that they did not get to gossip quite like they did over the summer.

Early in the morning, Ambrosius stumbled out of bed, pulled on his slippers, and made his way to the kitchen table, where he made his cup of coffee, buttered his toast, and started looking at yesterday's Daily Prophet. Skimming the headlines, he laughed a bit. "_Former Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt Expected to Endorse Weasley for Minister_, ha! That girl won't take it. She's too busy knocking the conservatives in line. _Rita Skeeter Indicted in Quick-Quote Quill Scandal_… She's still writing, huh? Maybe she'll right a nice, good book one day about something that doesn't have to do with murder or adultery… Oh, here's the adultery section! _Magical Matches_ my bloody arse!"

"Brosie dear, what are you reading now?" Dorothea said, causing Ambrosius to jump and spill some of his coffee onto the offending paper.

"Just the Prophet, Dora, don't you get your knickers all twisted up. They've added a personals section. Merlin's beard! This one sounds like you back when we were dating: _Single Young Witch, looking for dashing Wizard to have a whi—"_

"Brosie, there's never been nothing "dashing" about you! You've always been neck deep in syrup and cockroaches!" Dorothea interrupted.

"—_whirlwind romance. Wizards must be handsome and intelligent, and know one end of a cauldron from another. Quidditch players need not respond._ Look, Dora, she don't like Quidditch either! You sure you're not cheating on me?" Ambrosius teased.

"Well, I'm glad there's a shallow witch in Britain that doesn't like Quidditch," Dorothea scoffed. "If 'handsome' was good husband material, then I'd have run off with Mundungus Fletcher when I had the chance."

"Oh, let's not start on Dung this early in the morning… You're not even drinking!"

And so the conversation continued, lightheartedly, between Dorothea and Ambrosius, about various witches and wizards from years past, some ex-flames, yet others novelty matches that wouldn't have ever occurred in real life. All too soon, it came time to open up Honeydukes.

The morning crowd was always decent, and this weekend was no exception. By lunch, they had already gone through half of their Sugar Quills, and even the Blood-flavoured lollipops were selling, and the amount of thieves they had caught this morning was a new record. Ambrosius asked each one for their name and their house, wrote down a physical description, and checked their wands. Most of the ones who had stolen today hadn't stole from him before, and he'd learned that leaving a lasting negative impression usually kept them from coming back and robbing Honeydukes again.

In the afternoon lull right before dinner, Ambrosius sat down with Dorothea in their kitchen, with the list, and added on the names that she had caught. Eight boys, thirteen through seventeen, and six girls, although granted, most of those children were working together, and some of them didn't have their hands on any contraband. "Dora, did you catch anyone we know?"

"Just the Potter's boy. James, I think he is. Looks just like his grandfather, if you ask me, and acts completely nuts. Caught him with Daphne Greengrass's boy, Phineas, although he looks more like Marcus Flint than Elijah Yaxley, if you ask me…"

"So James Potter, Phineas Yaxley—"

"Greengrass. She at least had the decency to name him after herself, since she's too scared to get a Paternity Potion done."

"Alright, after adding James Potter and Phineas Greengrass to that list, I've got six, four Slytherins, a Ravenclaw, and a Gryffindor. And who were the last two, again?"

"You know, Greg Goyle's twin boys, Gage and Garin. Sixth year Slytherins, trying to steal a chair out the front door. Some kids just have no decency."

Ambrosius gave the list another once over, checking the names and the houses. "I could've sworn we had another year to go before we got a Potter… Er… are you certain you got the right names, Dora?" The older man really didn't want to give a reputation where it wasn't needed.

"If I'd have had a truth potion on me, I'd have dosed that one," Dora said, looking at the list. "Something about him seemed fishy, but rules are rules. Can't have letting one celebrity kid off, or the whole lot will cry foul. Kids these days, Brosie, it's just insane. Why, I remember, back in our days at Hogwarts, stealing was an offense punishable by expulsion."

Ambrosius shook his head, before stuffing the list inside an envelope and sealing it shut, while they started looking at the girls' list. This list surprised him simply by the number of Hufflepuffs on it. Biased as he was to his old house, he really didn't like to see the one house in Hogwarts that should stand as a shining example of all that was good in the Wizarding world tarnished by… six girls, three seventh years and three fourth years. Peer pressure at its finest, if he was the judge of anything.

Fortunately, the rest of the day went smoothly, and Ambrosius closed up shop to help cook dinner early, so that he and Dorothea could go out for drinks that night. And, like old witches everywhere, Dorothea this evening couldn't stop talking about the latest scandal: A respectable, conservative Pure-blooded family—the Umbridges, no less—had apparently made a mockery of themselves when Clarence, a bright young wizard on the fast track to Unspeakable training—brought over his pregnant Muggle girlfriend to meet his family. To say things didn't go well would have been like saying that the Battle of Hogwarts was only a setback for You-Know-Who. The _entire_ Umbridge family was there, including Dolores, who was fresh out of her stay in Azkaban for all the mess she got herself involved with during the Second Wizarding War. Paroles ended up violated, hexes were cast, and the poor Muggle girl went into labor ten weeks early. The latest rumor on the street was that someone had tried to modify the poor girl's memory to forget about the incident, and instead managed to make her forget about her beau.

That evening, after Ambrosius actually finished his paper and Dorothea had managed to get the Honeydukes Sweetshop sweets magically cooked and wrapped, he penned a short letter off to one Mr. H. Potter of Godric's Hollow about how a young wizard claiming to be James Potter had attempted to steal two pounds of Sugar Quills.


End file.
